


Identity Thief

by Lotter



Category: Magi: Adventure of Sinbad (Anime), Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Identity Thief - Freeform, No Aftercare, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Sinbad is too good looking for his own good, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, blowjob, not safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotter/pseuds/Lotter
Summary: Indulging in a guilty pleasure has never tasted so sweet.Sinbad/Reader
Relationships: Sinbad/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110





	Identity Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CuddleFluffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddleFluffy/gifts), [baalsdungeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baalsdungeon/gifts), [Devil Rose (Tiggerola)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiggerola/gifts).



Heart thundering a bit too loudly and hands shaking with the excitement of doing something so scandalous, you fix your maid’s outfit once more, dancing on your feet in front of the door. Turning your head toward the window, you squint in the hope of seeing your face. 

Or more precisely, the face of Nimue - caramel hair, doe-like eyes, pretty face - the head maid of Sindria’s castle. It was an ability of Abas, the djinn of trust and lies that you brought back after conquering his dungeon some years ago.

And it was in this same dungeon that you met him, Sinbad the conqueror, head of Sindria’s company and the world's biggest heartthrob. And the very minute you laid your eyes on him, and the very minute you agreed to join his company, you knew you were doomed. For this attraction of yours, tugging and screaming at you to just drop your panties in front of him would never burn out.

You knock on the door, letting yourself in before immediately bowing. “You called, my King?”

Seated on his bed, Sinbad smiles at you, putting some documents down for just a second. “Yes, run a bath for me, will you?”

You bit your cheek, stopping that excited smile that threatens to break your placid expression. It would seem that your plan would succeed on your first try. 

In a way, you almost feel bad for deceiving him as you were going to. He trusts you, and probably never expect something like that from you. But on the other hand, he had been flirting with you, testing your limits and even suggesting what he would do to you for _years_. 

Surely he wouldn’t feel that bad should he learn you finally decide to take a peek. He might even be as proud as a peacock, never letting you live it down. 

And _ugh, he's going to be insufferable, isn't he?_

The tedium of preparing the bath snaps you back to the present when the pot of water you had been heating up begins to boil over. You pour it into the enormous porcelain tub, watching the water settles and the steam rises. 

“Your bath is ready, My King.” You call from inside the bathroom, throwing in different scents and watching the bubbles. It emits a particular odor, one that you love and always bath yourself in.

“Thank you,” Sinbad’s voice is low, quiet and right behind you as you tense in surprise, voice caught in your throat.

But you soon find your tongue again.

“It’s nothing, my King” you respond, standing up and glancing at him. He’s smiling, bright, warm, and tired, and you can feel the effect it does on you as it spreads through your body, pleasantly warm.

You're almost shaking with anticipation, eyeing him a bit too intendly and it almost feels like he knows as he sends a coquettish look. Smoldering golden eyes watch you and the corners of his eyes wrinkle pleasantly.

Mentally, you tell yourself to keep it together. Just one look and you could leave. But that sweet excitement you felt earlier starts to turn sour as you're finally plagued with second thoughts. 

Is it really acceptable? He’s your friend after all, and attraction or not, he would remain it. His consent on the whole thing was dubious. Yes, he is a King and bathes with maids around. But he never allowed _you_ inside the damn bathroom before. Words were words but what you were doing wasn't just mere drunken flirts. Could you still face him after that?

Thousands of questions and doubts drow your mind, enough to extinguish the fire of your lust. 

Finally, your sense of moral stops you right before you tilt into that abyss of lust.

No, that was stupid. Mission aboarted.

You turn to leave, feeling ashamed of yourself.

“Stay,” Sinbad says hoarsely. When you look at him, he almost hesitates, but he looks calm and still has that bright and sunny smile, “I could use the company of a beautiful woman.”

You want to protest but one look into his half-lidded eyes is enough for you to comply. He looks tired and maybe it's a good idea to stay and keep him from falling asleep and drowning himself in his bath.

It would be a shame if he were to die like that.

“Yes, my King,” you respond.

You come to him, helping him to undress while dutifully averting your gaze, and stare hard at the detailed tiling that lines the floor. It’s not as if you haven’t seen him like this before. You’ve seen him in his Djinn’s equip and they leave little to the imagination- and so you know perfectly well what he looks like; strong arms, wide shoulders, broad chest, the hard muscles of his abdomen.

You don’t look further down, even if your desire is screaming at you to look, kicking like a toddler to just peek, just enough to fill your head with fantasies as you masturbate to the thought of him taking you.

And you had quite the imagination for that; in his office, bend over his desk, in the royal bathroom, his back pressed against the tiled floor, and even on his balcony.

He may have pushed you into that sea of sin but you certainly are the one sailing further away. 

Sinbad lowers himself into the tub gingerly, and tips his head back, hair falling outside of the tub. A sigh, rumbling and low. It rips a shiver out of you that went right to that heat pooling in your belly, teasing an ember or two of your forgotten lust.

The bathroom slowly begins to fill with steam from the tub until the air is heavy with it, warm and damp against your skin. The clothes felt heavy on you and a bit too warm and it’s almost mindlessly that you open two buttons of your shirt, fanning with a hand. _Almost_ mindlessly but you're a bit too aware of his gaze lingering on your cleavage for it to be entirely innocent. 

The two of you sit in a silence that should be comfortable but isn’t. Not really. Not when you stop yourself from closing your legs every time he glances at you.

When he shifts in the tub, the line of his shoulders is suddenly plainly visible, and you can see each muscle outlined in the light, droplets of water clinging to his tanned skin, and you find yourself glancing away, licking your lips and heaving a sigh.

It suddenly dawns on you that maybe it would be a good idea to give him a washcloth instead of letting him soak into the bath.

When you turn back, Sinbad is watching you, eyes strangely dark, and smirking like he knows something that you don’t. And when you reach his side and he holds out his hand for the cloth, clearly expecting you to give him. But you don’t. 

You make a split-second decision that takes every inch of bravery you possess, a folly outburst that was all but an impulse, one you haven’t fully considered the consequences of and thus when all of these outcomes bubble up, you almost clam up.

It makes your stomach churns and turns with apprehension and anticipation and muddled uncertainty, meshed with burning desire but still-

You reach out to touch.

And-

His skin beneath your fingers is warm, smooth and soft. You silently, shakily exhaled, dragging the cloth across his shoulder before dipping it into the water.

You focus on his hair first, luscious and unfairly soft, washing them and massaging his scalp until he becomes putty in your hands.

It dawns on you in the corner of your mind of how trusting he is, putting himself in your care without blinking. But you’re equal parts fascinated and thrilled of playing with his hair that you don’t really think about it.

You stop when he starts doodling. He moans lowly when you rinse his head but blinks himself awake for what comes next. 

You drag the washcloth across his shoulders and scrub down his upper back and he leans forward, granting you access with a soft groan. It’s fascinating and even slightly surprising, his reaction to you. Satisfying even.

You absentmindedly note his lack of comment - the devil always had too much cheek for his own good - as you move across his chest, down over the ridged muscles of his abdomen and you’re pretty sure he flexes under your touch.

His hands grip the side of the tub for a second, knuckles white, before relaxing again, and you pause.

Your eyes meet and it steals your breath away. His pools of molten gold shine with too much satisfaction for it to be innocent. And that damn smile is still plastered on his face. 

He is enjoying himself tremendously.

“Am I doing something bad?” You whisper, voice stuck in your throat.

“No,” He answers, voice equally as soft but you could almost hear a purr in his words. “No, keep going.” And he bit his lips, his full and shiny lips, stopping himself from saying something that could have you running for the hills. 

When you don’t immediately pick up from where you stop, he catches your hand, guiding you up to his shoulders and his chest and then down, down, down, and below the soapy water. You can feel a trail of hair under the washcloth and your imagination goes into overdrive, throwing enough fuel on your burning lust to last you for a lifetime. 

Your exhale is shaky at best, your body is tense and too hot, and you’re acutely aware of his eyes boring into you, drinking in every expression you make. You screw your eyes shut, dousing that fire with images of that one old man you, unfortunately, walked on when he was changing. It doesn’t work. It’s like throwing a cup of water on a burning furnace. And the image of him lingers, hard muscles, smooth skin, and a trail of dark, wiry hair leading down to- 

You struggle to keep your breathing even and your demeanor relaxed, letting him guide your hand further down.

But you never touch his cock as he suddenly changes his route, taking you to his thighs and knees before going back to his chest and up.

The minutes drag on, seconds dripping away just like the droplets of water running down his chest almost teasingly, and you find yourself favoring the use of your bare hands over the cloth, fascinated with the way Sinbad leans into your touch, each time pushing his chest against your hand, and each time his smirk widened. 

He stops. Abruptly. Your mind is a bit slow right now, so you don't realize it immediately.

“The water is getting cold,” he murmurs, hand finally letting go of yours. 

He moves to stand, spilling water out of the tub and wetting your skirt. You see his hand reach for a towel and catch a glimpse of his navel and the strong muscles of his ass before remembering you should be looking anywhere but there. 

Your mouth is suddenly dry, throat parched and you find yourself struggling to remember how to focus on anything except his body. Your self-control is running thin by now and if you don’t make your escape soon, you might not make one at all. 

You wait for him at the door, back turned to him and hands shaking with some kind of anticipation. You want to go out, to leave and yet-

You don’t.

You feel him behind you, breathing down your neck and raising goosebumps that turn into full shivers before his arms close around you, trapping you against him, against his wet, hard and warm body. 

“My King,” you squeak out, unable to stop yourself, “Should I fetch your clothes?”

He laughs, nose snuggling against your neck as his arms bring you even closer until you could feel it, his _cock_ , warm and rock hard against the curve of your ass. “No need, I have a feeling I won’t need them tonight.”

Cheeky man is what you want to say but he starts to pepper your neck with tiny, butterflies-like kisses and your mind seems to overheat, the lust burning through your veins finally reaches your head. 

You tip back your head, pressing it into his shoulder while giving him more space to work his magic. 

And he does, ravaging your neck with kisses and teeth marks, laving his tongue and sucking while his hands roam over your body, learning your curves and never really lingering.

It’s not as meticulous as he bragged it would be but you found yourself not minding. 

One of your hands finds his bicep, squeezing and stroking it before running it up until you catch the back of his neck. He seems to immediately understand what you desire, yearn even, because his lips soon find their way up to your cheek before they meet yours.

It’s filthy, that kiss you exchange, with more teeth and tongue than lips but it draws the most pleasure out of you.

It’s only when you find yourself pressed against the wall that you finally realize that you are still in the bathroom.

“My Kin-” he interrupts you with a kiss before pausing, “Maybe we should take it somewhere else.” He nibbles your ear, purring and liking very much the sound of that request but when he fails to react immediately, you try again. “My Kin- Sinbad! Please!”

He chuckles lowly, rumbling as his chest shakes and presses against you. “Oh, I intend to please you very much, all night and forever. You can hold me to that.”

You’re left speechless for a moment while his head dips down your neck once more, teeth grazing your skin. He finally sighs before taking a step back. “But as much as I would like to keep ravaging you, you’re right. A bedroom would be far more spacious, especially for what I have planned next.”

“Planned?” You breathe out, biting your lips. 

His eyes darken and remain glued on your lips, “Of course, did you expect to come out of this room without a reward? You took such good care of me, it’s only natural that I show you my gratitude.” He said, tone low and dripping with honey, promising pleasure and mindblowing sex. 

Yet his warmth is only returned with the rise of a brow, “Then you can give me some of your harem’s girls to entertain me.”

He takes two steps back, eyes round and the triple of their size, “Wha- you want my- you girls?” 

He is completely floored and your inside burst into warm feelings and amusement. For the first time, you have flustered the great Sinbad the Conqueror. And it feels great.

A smirk breaks your facade as your eyes sparkle with amusement. His worried face turned into amused chuckles. He wets his lips and you follow the path of his tongue across his lips with your eyes. Wet, full and curled into a cheeky grin. “You, you are trouble.”

There’s going to be consequences for this — there always are — and it would almost be disappointing if there isn’t but you find yourself not minding. You took a step forward, pushing your chest out and watching him under your eyelashes “Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it, Sinbad?” 

A low, pleasured moan escapes his throat and his hand grips your thigh, slowly bringing it up, and up, and up until you could wrap it around his hips. The very same hips that are still covered by a towel. How it did not fall is beyond you and maybe you should ask how he knots it- 

His hands cup your asscheeks, lifting you up until you wrap your other leg.

-But maybe later.

Face raised above his, your eyes meet once again. It’s almost intimate, the look you share, warm and sparkling with affection. You’re almost surprised Sinbad could look at unfamiliar women with eyes as warm as his. You raise a hand and curl a finger, stroking his cheek. Your eyes, on the other hand, are beaming with an affection you’re not ready, almost afraid, to name. 

You kiss him. Again and again. Each kiss is hot and consuming, you’re starved for his taste. Lips parted at some point and tongues battles and dances, discovering what the other has to offer. 

You’re actually not even sure when he starts walking toward the bedroom but you’re acutely awared that you reach destination once he throws you on the bed. 

You squeak. 

“What a gentleman you are,” you mock, raising on your elbows, “And here I thought you would be gentle and focused on my pleasure.”

“Gentleman in the street and beast in the sheet,” he answers with a grin, helping you crawling further up the bed. “But don’t worry cutie, you’ll be crossed eyes once I’m finished.”

He grips your thighs, dragging you toward him before he covers you with his body and lips. 

“Cheeky,” you sigh against his mouth as his hands go behind your back, bringing you even closer. “You’re all talk, or is that the only thing you can do with your mouth?”

He pauses, the way his eyes widened is almost comical.

“My mouth?” He chuckles a bit bewildered, finding your quick retorts far more amusing than they should be. The atmosphere around you seems to heat up. “Let me show you.” 

His fingers swiftly open your shirt and he purrs when he finds you braless. “Are you sure this wasn’t planned?”

You chuckle and your retort is replaced by a mewling sound as he presses his lips down to the base of your neck, trailing feather-light butterfly kisses down to your collarbone, laving his tongue and sucking just to see you gasp and wriggle in his grasp, surprised and slightly needy. 

His arm behind your back brings your breast to his face and peppering them with thousand of tiny kisses as his other hand brings your hips closer. His teeth rake across your skin until they catch one of your nipples. His touch is akin to fire, devouring and burning, and has you both groaning at the contact, dizzy with desire, and your hands reach out to grasp a part of him to ground yourself. 

Your right hand finds its purpose in his hair, twisting and tangling purple locks while your left traces down your side to rid yourself of your skirt and panties. He kisses, sucks and licks it until you pull his hair, squirming away, too sensitive. 

Sinbad then - painfully slowly - crosses your cleavage, devoting his attention to your other nipple before he lowers you down on the mattress. Once that done, he’s fast to steal your breath away. What whispers and groans of encouragement you may have had for him, he completely devours in a toothy kiss.

Deciding he wanted to take things a step further, he litters kisses down your stomach and down the apex of your thighs. The view greeting him there is nothing other than he could expect after torturing you for so long: you’ve been wet and wanting for him longer than you can recall, longer than a day. But he drinks it in, taking his sweet time to watch you, your body, as he lies between your legs.

You’re watching him with almost as much reverence as he has for you.

His gaze rolls up to catch your own, a smirk pulling the corners of his mouth up once more. “This is a sight I could never grow tired of.”

He looks every bit like the cat that got the cream and it sends blood to your cheeks. _This damned shameless man._

The flush reddening your cheeks is trumped by the surge of pleasure that has your legs closing, or at least trying to. He chuckles his amusement, seemingly pleased that even now, with just words, he has you ensnared and entranced, a wrecked mess eager for his touch. The softest blow and touch he uses to probe your thighs and wet folds are clouding your mind.

“Yes, I could get very accustomed to seeing you like this.” He murmurs casually into your thigh, leaving a wet kiss and a soft bite. His hands tuck themselves under your rear to tilt you for perfect access. He’s poised just above your slit now, simply waiting and definitely toying with you. 

You open your mouth to speak, yanking on his hair in a display of displeasure. That same instant, he rolls his wide, long tongue in a hot trail from the bottom to the top of your mound. The sounds that come out of your mouth is more akin to mewling than to actual, coherent words.

The first lick is torture, the second has you fisting the sheet and arching your back. Each time his tongue laps your folds have you wriggling in his hand and it rips sweet chuckles out of him that vibrate against you. 

At first, he’s only licking your outer lips finding satisfaction in seeing you squirm just from that but it’s soon not enough and he is spreading you open for deeper licks. 

Your legs tremble and move against his side, doing everything they could to keep you from buckling. 

He releases you with an audible suck. The throbbing between your legs longs for him to return and his tongue is darting across his mouth from one corner to the other, savoring your proof of arousal.

You moan as Sinbad stares at you, eyes sparkling. And he really, unfairly looks good - lips swollen, red and glistening, hair disheveled and down, and face lightened by the dying glow of the sunset. 

“You…” You huff out, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

He gently bites the inside of your thigh when you wriggle in his grasp. “Patience.”

He descends back on you, this time concentrating on your clit and you’re so lost in the palace of pleasure that you don’t immediately feel the finger that strokes your slit. It’s only when his thick, skilled middle finger enters deep into you that you cry out. 

He’s bringing you to an unstoppable height and has you panting and moaning like the wanton woman you are. Fingers digging into his scalp, you see your climax approaching fast, the sweet ache of your release building, promising warm, toes-curling waves of pleasure if only he kept up his good work. And you would do everything to keep those swipe of tongue on your clit. 

And that sweet release comes, sooner and louder than you would have expected and it knocks all of your sense out.

Your mind is spiralling out of control, lost at the sea of pleasure.

When you come back to your senses, you find yourself on top of him, trapped in his embrace, legs entwined together, head cradled against his neck as he whispers sweet nothing and _your name_ in your ear, kissing your sweaty forehead at regular intervals.

Your sluggish mind doesn’t immediately realize what he just said, but when it does, it feels like you have been doused in cold water. 

Your heart beat furiously but for another reason. Your mind is reeling in panic and you're trapped in his embrace.

_Fuck._

“What?! I’m not-” You’re interrupted by his rumbling laugh that shakes his shoulders. 

He takes your head in his hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know?” He raises a brow at you as if to taunt you further. “Especially when you don’t hide that necklace of yours.” 

You flush red at that, berating yourself for forgetting such a thing. Your metal vessel had become a part of you, an extension of yourself and it isn’t the first time that you forget it’s still here and very visible. 

You groan some curses, head falling back against his shoulder. Your head feels like a volcano, burning with the embarrassment of a thousand of sun and you know you make little to no sense even to yourself. You just hope for death to come claim your soul. Dying of embarrassment after a mind-blowing orgasm wasn’t that bad though. 

You release the illusion, transforming back into yourself.

Sinbad cradles your head again, forcing you to meet his eyes and he is grinning, head tilted to the side. “I prefer this face much more anyway.” You hiss, _this smooth bastard,_ but he continues, “I never knew you wanted to be my maid that badly.” He pauses and looks like a flash of illumination just hit him. His smile turns shit-eating. “Oh. _Oh._ Is that how you like it? Do you want me to become the stern king and you, the blushing maid? You’re already playing your part quite we-”

You kiss him, ceasing this infernal teasing, and he answers eagerly. It's too late to go back now, anyway. The least you can do is enjoying yourself.

Your hands find themselves wandering his body, discovering every crevices and muscles, skin and scars, raising goosebumps and your lips soon follow. You leave a trail of fire in your wake and Sinbad finds himself hooked on it. He is looking every inch of attentive, as his keen eyes follow your every move. 

His Adam’s apple bobbles as you keep going down, eyes widening and breathe hastening at the idea of you performing the thing that no other woman - except for his brothel’s girls - has ever done to him. 

You stop at his belly button, licking and sucking here as your hands finish their exploration with that _part_ of him. 

Except, it’s hidden by _the_ towel.

“How the hell is it still wrapped?” Sinbad is surprised by your outburst, legs tensing under you before he chuckles, amused and aroused. “You have to teach me how you do that, mine fall with every blow of the wind.” 

He looks a bit too interested in your admission but remains silent, only taking your chin between his fingers and dragging you up for a kiss. “Maybe later.”

You comply easily enough. 

Revealing his cock to you feels like unwrapping a gift, you find yourself dizzy and giddy with excitement. 

There are several way to describe Sinbad. Beautiful and smart are one. Arrogant and frustrating remain your favorites. But _thick_ was never among them until today. Because, well, he is thick, especially this close as it bobbles against his stomach, leaking with precum. 

While of respectable length, his size looks _challenging_ in some way.

But you were never one to turn down a challenge before. You lick your lips, looking like a prey eyeing its next meal. You just have to lubricate it. 

Time for revenge.

It’s the first lick that’s the most explosive. Sinbad’s hips jolt forward, almost hitting you in the nose. He tries to apologize but you’ve little interest in hearing his words with such a handsome part of him exposed to your eyes. His voice is soon replaced by choked gasps and groans. His hips wriggle just slightly, but his cock remains as still as possible now that you’ve captured his tip in your mouth. 

He tosses his head back as you suck him and after the groans subside, the sound of his blankets crumbling in his fists fills your ears. Seeing him this way is a treat. He who always keeps his composure might come undone under your touch far quicker than you intend. There’s something deliciously wicked in making him moan and shiver like this.

The sheer power you have on him is thrilling, almost addictive.

You release his tip with a wet pop and lick over your lips to get them supple and prepared for what is to come. His thick cock rocks back against his stomach, hitting it with a wet noise and his growl of disappointment is simply heavenly.

How the mighty have fallen. And dreadfully easily. Just a mouth on his cock and he becomes putty in your hands.

His hand shoots up to lock in your hair, bringing you closer to his cock. You indulge him, seeing him, starry-eyed and breathless was enough reward.

You run your tongue up from the base to the tip and you catch his gaze just as you take him back inside. His face twisting deliciously in pleasure would forever be engraved in your head. 

He exhales his pleasure through his opened mouth, watching as you trail saliva down his cock. His stomach flexes and his eyes darkened at the erotic sight. But you reward him with gentle stroking until the slickness starts making the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard.

His head cranes back and his hips roll forward into your hand. You take him deeper once and you are reward by choking sounds deliciously greeting your ears. You’re tempted to try it again but you’re throbbing too much at that point. 

“Sinbad,” you call out and his half-lidded, dangerously warm eyes bore into yours. You raise on your knees, sitting right on top of him. He tenses in realization, raising on his elbows before wrapping you in his embrace. 

It’s a loving embrace, one designed to melt you and drown you in love, full of affectionate kisses and bites to your breasts, collarbone, neck, and chin as he positions you above his just slightly intimidating member. Your hands tangle in his hair, yanking and pulling. He answers with a groan.

“Sinbad, ” You moan as your arms encircle his strong neck. His cock is pressed so intimately against you that warmth flies back to your cheeks.

“Ah? Is it the return of my blushing little maid?” Even with his cock right under you, he can’t stop teasing you. You bite his neck in revenge.

The first press of his tip has you both half-sighing, half-singing in sheer delight. 

You sink down, impaling yourself with your hands brace on his stomach, fingernails digging into his abs - a part of him you didn’t take enough time to enjoy. Your walls stretch as you fill yourself with him, taking all of him inside. 

It isn’t that you aren’t ready, but the sudden feeling of being so full makes you gasp louder than expected, almost wriggling away. 

He hooks his fingers into the backs of your knees and pulls you forward an inch, drawing you higher up his hips. The move shifts him inside you, lodging himself deeper.

His efforts are rewarded with crescent-shaped marks on his shoulder and back.

You take a moment to regain your bearing but as soon as you do, you roll your hips up before bringing them down in graceful motion, tantalizingly sensual. You close your eyes to fully embrace the sensation. Each plunge down on him stirs a primal heat within your body.

You chew your lip to bite back a happy sigh at being so deliciously full, and simply concentrate on the feeling of his thickness teasing at your walls, of thrusting into you over and over again. There’s a moan or two that falls from your lips, the cry of his name repeated over and over again, like a broken record, when he decides to change angles or his pacing. 

Each new bit of pleasure he’s eager to give you is met with needy scratches across his chest and back. 

And the sounds he makes, delightfully obscene and particularly desperate.

He is needing you as much as you're needing him.

Those clever eyes watch every little twitch of bliss you make, ears listen to every wanton cry, and he greedily engraves these memories in his mind. He will probably call upon these memories should he find himself lonely at night.

And the thought of him masturbating to you send your mind reeling with burning lust. 

He’s been hitting the right spots a few times now, your steady release grows searingly hot in your lower stomach, feverishly pulsating in a way no other man had ever done to you and with the last thrust, you explode. 

You come first, back-arching, pressing him closer to you and eyes unseeing before going boneless on top of him -hot, tired and utterly satisfied. 

Sinbad presses into you once, twice, with growing frenzy before he releases a low growl that was the sexiest sound you have ever heard and come inside you, body shuddering.

You sigh, the sound breathless and painfully soft, like you have been waiting too long and too much and have finally entirely given in. 

It takes a while for either of you to regain your breathing and you’re content basking into the afterglow. 

The aftercare will come after, you decide, finding it hard to move your legs. 

Sinbad helps you roll away with a cocky smile, proud of his achievement before peppering you with kisses and soft, feather-like strokes and eyes shining with a feeling you fear putting a name on it. 

Neither of you is ready for that yet.

But maybe later.

**Author's Note:**

> For all the works you do for this fandom, Fluff and because the three of you are incredibly sweet. This is for you.


End file.
